FBI AGENT Jack Masters fit his name. If Aidan were interested in taking pictures ever again—and he wasn’t because he’d taken one too many while staying at the cottage—he’d make Masters the subject of a photo essay on the typical FBI agent. Dressed in a suit like the ones worn by the Secret Service—when they weren’t in fucking lake clothes—Masters sat across from Mitch and Bailey and Gorman, who’d taken C.J.’s place for two weeks while she recuperated in Queens. Masters had come down to New York today from Penn Yan to talk to Bailey. Since Clay was still in Zanganesia, Bailey had asked Aidan to be at the town house for the session.
“This is what we have so far, Ms. O’Neil.” He referred to a red file. “No one except Agent Ludzecky seems to have seen the two boys, if indeed they were boys, which we can’t assume, jump the fence and go after Rory.”
“No one?”
“Most people crowded around the entrance. Few were at the exit, where he was headed.”
“What about the Ferris wheel operator?”
“He was getting people off the ride, one car at a time. The FBI got to the scene within hours, but from what we could gather, people weren’t paying attention to what went on inside the fence. Rory told us he couldn’t yell out or make a scene because one of the kidnappers put a hand over his mouth, and then scrunched his body—Rory’s term—to his own.” Masters shook his head. “The only thing anyone remembers very well is Agent Ludzecky playing Supergirl by jumping off the damn ride. Unfortunately when something dramatic like that happens at a crime scene, it’s all people remember.” He looked to Mitch. “How is she, anyway?”
“Recuperating fine. She’s enjoying her time at her mother’s house.”
Which was more than Aidan knew. He’d had no contact with her since Saturday night in the hospital. Son of a bitch!
“Did you get anything off of Rory’s clothes?” The Secret Service had confiscated the kid’s shirt, pants and hat to analyze it for traces of the kidnappers.
“We got one strand of long black hair.”
Bailey touched her head. “Mine? I know the Secret Service took my hairbrush for a sample.”
“Both are at headquarters as we speak, undergoing DNA testing. If it’s not yours, we can find out a myriad of things from forensic testing and genetic genealogy, including sex and ethnic origin.”
“Have you checked out anything related to Bailey’s gang activities?” Mitch wanted to know. “We’re worried about the presence of the Sanders family on the lake.”
Masters nodded. “We’re going over their background again to find out if there’s a connection between the aunt, uncle or daughter with Annie-O, the Anthrax girl. So far—just like your people, Mitch—we haven’t found any. We’ll go see Annie-O while we’re in New York to make sure she’s what she appears to be these days.”
“What about the GGs?” Aidan asked. “Could the kidnapping be linked to them?”
“Still out of commission. But we tracked down the core group again—about ten of them, with names like Buzzy Iverson, a girl called Locust—just to make sure. So far, no luck with them, either. We’re checking into juvenile records now. The cops remember some underage girls hanging out with the older kids. They must have gone through juvenile court.”
“Then their records will be sealed,” Bailey said.
“Given what’s at stake, the Freedom of Information Act and the Patriot Act, I’m sure we can convince a family court judge to release them. But first we have to find out who they are.”
His sister leaned back and cradled her stomach. “I can’t believe my gang activities would surface after all this time. “
The FBI agent shook his head. “Unfortunately, your stay at the lake was on the New York news. Gang members have a long memory, Ms. O’Neil. You know that. If they’re still on the wrong side of the law, no telling what the reminders of you might have generated.”
Poor Bailey, Aidan thought. It seemed her life would never be simple. Thinking of C.J., Aidan decided maybe nobody’s was.
o0o
MIKEY ENTERED the pub’s kitchen where Liam was putting the finishing touches on his Irish stew for tonight. The boy had always liked being around the homey scents of food and the warmth of the hearth.
“Dad?” His son’s face was serious again. For a few weeks, when he was at the lake with Bailey, Mikey’s mood had lightened, but since he got back to the city, he’d been keeping to himself again. There was a disturbing sense of stillness about him.
“Yeah, Mike?”
“Is somebody gonna try to kidnap me?”
The spoon in Liam’s hand clattered onto the steel stovetop and he whirled around. “What are you talking about?”
“Some guys almost got Rory. Cleary says they could come after us.”
Hell, the effects of the damned lake trip were widespread. They’d all returned to New York three days ago as if they’d been to a funeral instead of on a vacation. Crossing the room, Liam hefted up his seven-year-old, gave him a hug and sat him on a stool at one of the counters.
“Sometimes Cleary just likes to get your goat, Mike. You know that. Nobody’s coming after you, I promise.”
The boy was owl-eyed. “They did Rory. We saw it again on TV.”
Goddamn it! The footage of the near kidnapping—mostly C.J. Ludzecky jumping off the Ferris wheel—was on the news. Rachel Scott hadn’t been finished when she filmed Bailey at the museum and Rory at the picnic. Dylan, especially, was angry at this woman’s constant publicity of their family. Not quite as angry as Clay, though, when the FBI had gotten through to him in Zanganesia and told him what had happened at the fair. He called Bailey to make sure she was all right and was livid about Scott.
Grasping Mikey’s shoulders, Liam stared into his eyes. They were so like Kitty’s it broke his heart. “You know Aunt Bailey’s husband is the vice president.”
“Yeah, ’course. The kids at school think it’s cool he’s my uncle.”
“Some bad people don’t like politicians and want to hurt their families. It’s why Bailey needs so many agents with her.”
Mikey’s eyes got watery and he wiped stray tears with the hem of his T-shirt. “Is Aunt Bailey going to get hurt?”
“No, honey, she’s got excellent people protecting her.”
“Not C.J. anymore. She jumped off the Ferris wheel to save Rory.” A hitch in his voice. “She got hurt.”
“Only a sprained ankle and a bump on her head.” He smiled at the boy. “You like C.J., don’t you?”
“Uh-huh.”
“She’s going to rest and get better for two weeks. She’ll be here with Bailey by the time we get back from our camping trip next week.” For which they’d tripled Rory’s guards. Now three agents were going along instead of one.
Mikey’s expression was older than his years warranted. “Then C.J. goes to Washington with Aunt Bailey.”
He ruffled his son’s hair. “You miss Aunt Bailey when she’s not here, don’t you?”
His son nodded.
“Me, too.”
“I miss Mom more.”
“I know.” He pulled the boy close. “I feel the same way.”
Sometimes Liam could still see Kitty barge in through the swinging doors behind his son to show him something she bought, to tell him a cute story about the kids, to give him a kiss when she was helping out waitressing. God, he’d give anything to have one minute of those times back again.
Instead, through those doors came his brother Aidan. Who’d been in the world’s shittiest mood since he got back from the lake. Scowling, snapping, cranky as Angel got when she was tired. Aidan blamed it on worry about the kidnapping attempt, but Liam knew there was more to his foul disposition.
“I can’t find the fuc—” He caught sight of Mikey on the stool. “Sorry.” He crossed to the boy and tugged on his Yankees baseball cap. “How are you, kid?””
“ ’Kay.”
Liam said, “The kidnapping thing’s got him shaky.”
“How’s C.J.?” Mike wanted to know.
“Um, I’m not sure. Ask Aunt Bailey.”
“You like her.”
Liam crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the counter. “Out of the mouths of babes.”
“Yeah, I like her. She’s a nice woman.”
“Did you call her and ask how she is? Daddy says I should do that when somebody’s sick.”
“She’s resting.”
Mikey scowled. “So what?”
“Don’t want to disturb her. Now, what do you say you come out and help me stack glasses at the bar?” Something Mikey liked to do.
Liam smiled. Aidan had a way of cheering up the kids that none of the rest of them had. But he couldn’t seem to make himself feel better. He had it bad for Special Agent Ludzecky.
Mikey scrambled off the stool. “Cool.” He took Aidan’s hand.
“Thanks,” Liam mouthed behind Mikey’s back.
“No problem.”
Liam watched his brother go. For a minute, a familiar sense of anger welled inside him. Aidan should do something about his feelings for C.J. Life was too short to pussyfoot around with indecision. Liam knew that better than anybody.
Fishing his cell phone out of his pocket, he punched in a number. Waited for an answer. Then said, “Paddy, I gotta talk to you.”
o0o
C.J. WATCHED her sisters swarm around the clothes Matka had unpacked for her and hung in the closet of her old room. There was no other word to describe their actions. Like bees making honey, they homed in. And now they were going to have a freakin’ fashion show.
“For Christ’s sake, they’re just clothes.”
“Easy for you to say.” This from tall and willowy Magdalena. “Not every girl has her wardrobe bought by the vice president’s wife at her own personal store.”
“I get the yellow dress first.” This from Elizabeita, whose blond shoulder-length hair was up in a clip.
“Why?” Paulina asked, holding the sundress C.J. had yet to wear. Paulie’s hair still fell to her waist in a thick heavy mass.
Lizzie snatched the dress away. “Because I’m the youngest.”
“Lizzie baby, that line is wearing thin.” Ana eyed Paulie from where she sat on another of the three beds, nursing her second child. “The dress won’t fit you anyway, Paulie. Your boobs are too big since you had the twins.”
“Fine.” Paulie pulled out the pink capris and matching shirts. “These will.”
Antonia, identical to Paulina, joked, “Think your stomach’s flat enough, girlfriend?”
“Flatter than yours by a half inch.”
C.J. was shocked to learn her twin sisters had a contest to see who could lose their baby fat fastest. She hadn’t been surprised the two of them had kids at the same time, though Toni only had one. Paulie’s boys were with their dad, and Toni’s baby right now was outside with his Uncle Luke, swinging in a hammock under a big oak tree. Must be her brother was practicing for his own little treasures. All these babies...all these happy marriages...C.J. was struck with an awful thought: Was this why she’d avoided coming home? Because it was hard witnessing what she might never have?
She banished the thought and turned her attention to her youngest sister. Lizzie was beautiful in the dress, of course. It complemented her tanned back and shoulders. Not only was she the smartest of them all but the prettiest. “It looks fantastic on me.” And the least modest.
“You can have it,” C.J. said.
Lizzie stared at C.J. in the mirror. “I can?”
Ana said, “No, you cannot, young lady.”
Sofia added, “Caterina may need it to seduce some handsome agent back in D.C.”
For a minute, the memory of deep blue eyes flashed through her mind. She imagined the look in them if Aidan saw her in that dress.
“What’s this?” Magdalena asked. She’d bent down into the closet where Luke had stowed C.J.’s suitcase. When she stood she was holding a stuffed animal.
A white bear, with a pink ribbon. C.J.’s mouth dropped open.
“Look at her,” Paulie said.
She recovered her wits. “Must be one of Angel’s toys got in there by mistake.”
Maggie stared down at it. “There’s a note.”
C.J. reached out. “Give it to me. “
“No way...” This from Sofia. “Read it, Mags.”
The others chimed in. They could be vicious when they wanted to be. They’d driven Luke nuts about his girlfriends when they were young.
“It just says, ‘I’ll never forget you.’”
“Ohmigod.” Lizzie whirled around. “There is somebody. I’ll bet it’s that cute agent, Mitch. We’ve seen him on TV with Bailey.”
“No,” Paulie put in. “It has to be that other one, Grayson. He’s more her type.”
“Forget it.” C.J. kicked her sheet off her bare legs. They’d even dressed her in their pajamas. This set was flowered capris and a ruffled top. “There’s no guy in my life.”
“Then who’s never going to forget you, missy?” Elizabeita again.
When her son fussed, Ana stood and began to walk him. “You were moaning in your sleep last night.”
“I jumped down twenty feet off of a Ferris wheel and got hurt. I’m in pain.”
All of them froze. It would have been funny—five women in various states of undress and another with a crying baby—if their faces hadn’t filled with fear. Usually, C.J. was cautious about what she said to them. But she had been dreaming about Aidan since she got home three days ago and didn’t want them to know. And they’d caught her off guard. She should have been more careful because she’d heard them talking about watching the whole ordeal with Rory on TV. Still, no one mentioned it outright.
Lizzie broke the silence. She crossed to the bed, sat down and took C.J.’s hand. “Doesn’t it scare you, Cat? To put your life in danger like that?”
She held her sister’s hand tightly. “Not as much as it scares you. I’m sorry I said anything.”
“It was on the news, anyway.” There were tears is Ana’s eyes now.
“Damn that reporter.” C.J. was looking for someone to blame. “She’s harassing us.”
Sofia came to sit beside her, too. “We know you need to do this, but we just wish you were safer.”
“I hate worrying you.” C.J. bit her lip. “I remember what it was like with Luke.”
“Well,” Magdalena said, “at least we’re talking about it. I hate the silences and you not coming home much. Sometimes I can’t sleep at night—”
Matka appeared in the doorway wearing one of her housedresses and a stem look on her face. C.J. didn’t think she loved anybody more in the world than this woman. “Sciskac glos.”
They quieted immediately. Six beautiful faces turned toward the door where their mother stood.
“Owszem, Matka.”
“Tak Jest.”
All but Lizzie acquiesced. Raising her stubborn chin, she stood and plopped her hands on her hips. “I’m not shutting up. I want her to quit that damn job and live a normal life.”
“That is not something for you to decide, bobchee.”
Lizzie sniffed. “We got Luke to quit.”
Crossing to her youngest, Matka smoothed down Lizzie’s hair. “Kelsey got Luke to quit.”
“See. Then what we need is a man C.J. would leave the Secret Service for.”
C.J. could feel the blood rush to her face.
“Hmm,” Ana said. “I think I was right about the dream.”
Maggie was still holding the stuffed animal. “And I’m right about the bear.”
C.J. pulled the covers up over her head and wished she could stay buried under them.
o0o
IT WAS MIDNIGHT when Aidan entered his apartment from his shift at the pub. He was too keyed up to go to bed, so he wandered around the place that had once been Bailey’s. It was nicer than the studio he used to rent, so when she moved in with Clay, he took over her apartment for the last six months, then renewed the lease. He’d made it his own, though.
The first thing he’d done was install a dark room. There had been a big pantry in the kitchen, with easy access to the plumbing. He got permission to renovate from the landlord, and his brothers helped him make it over with blackout curtains, ventilation, a safelight, a wet bench in a flat sink. He enjoyed working in this medium for some of his more creative shots, but of course, the digital camera was easier to use and print copies.
In the kitchen, he got a beer and studied the far wall of family portraits. He’d done a montage of his nieces and nephews, had spent hours finding just the right juxtaposition and sizes. There was a big color photo of Ma and Pa, Bailey and his brothers. Another of Liam with Kitty. He stared at Liam’s expression. He hadn’t seen that look of contentment on his brother’s face in three years. Patrick and Brie seemed happy in their photo, too. Aidan had taken it years before the trouble had started. Dylan was up there, with Stephanie, in black and white because it seemed more suited to them. Staring at the gallery of photos he wondered again why everybody had married but him. He’d just never found the right girl.
Until now.
Stop, he told himself. That was a stupid thought. He’d only known her a month. He didn’t love her.
No, but you could. You feel it in your gut.
In the living room, he sank down onto the stuffed couch Bailey had left and stared at the landscapes he’d hung on the longest wall. There was room for some photos from the lake. If he could bear looking at them. Damn, he didn’t want to do this. Be preoccupied with her. She’d been right, after all, that he could never watch her risk her safety for the rest of his life. That he also knew in his gut.
Picking up the TV remote, he heard footsteps, then his apartment door open. It had to be Paddy. He had an emergency key. But all three of his brothers swaggered into the living room like a posse looking for its quarry. Oldest to youngest, dressed similarly in jeans and pub shirts.
“Hey, buddy,” Patrick said, leading the way, carrying a big brown bag. He sank onto the end of the couch.
“Hey.” Liam took a chair and propped his feet up on a hassock.
Dylan dropped down on the floor by the TV. “How’s it hanging?”
“Swell. What are you doing here at this hour?”
“Closed the pub a little early. Business was slow.”
Pat took a six-pack of Molson out of the bag and tossed one to each of them. Aluminum popped in the quiet apartment.
Liam spoke first. “We’re bummed about the FBI report.”
News had come today from Jack Masters that the strand of hair on Rory wasn’t Bailey’s. It was female and of Asian descent.
“That implicates Annie-O,” Aidan said.
“Mitch says the FBI found her; she’s still straight—and has an alibi for the day of the kidnapping.” Dylan seemed the most knowledgeable on this.
“What about her cousin Sasha? She’s not adopted or anything, is she?”
“No, she’s Asian, too. But the FBI contacted the family. They were out of town at the time of the fair.”
“What next?”
“They’re going deeper in the gang stuff. The GGs.”
“Who were responsible for the death of our half sister.” Liam’s voice was sad.
“Fuck,” Dylan said. “I hope it’s not them again.”
Aidan asked, “Is this why you came tonight? To commiserate?”
“No.” Pat leaned forward. “We’re here because you’re moping around like a lovesick pup.”
“And you’re grumpy as hell.” Dylan lifted a dark brow. “We’re doing an intervention.”
“And we’re concerned.” This from Liam.
Aidan zeroed in on that brother. “You blabber to these guys?”
His chin raised, Liam looked him straight in the eye. “There’s a time and place to keep secrets. This isn’t one of them. We think you’re making a mistake with C.J. Life’s short, bro.”
“All the better to spend it with the right woman.”
Liam’s eyes were wise. “Talking yourself into something you don’t really want won’t help.”
“You said those exact words to me, didn’t you?” Patrick was frowning. “When I wouldn’t compromise with Brie.”
Often with these guys, all Aidan’s charm evaporated. “I don’t appreciate this shit. Either drop it or leave.”
“Fine, we’re wrong. You mind’s made up.” Dylan held out a DVD Aidan hadn’t seen him bring in. “Let’s watch this.”
Something wasn’t right about the three of them giving in this fast. When they were younger, they’d used all kinds of ploys to torture him. “Yeah, sure, just so we’re clear.”
As Aidan punched the remote, his brothers murmured their consent.
“Uh-huh.”
“Sure.
“We’re backin’ off.”
The TV booted up and Dylan slipped a DVD into the machine. Some previews played and they laughed at Tom Cruise finding yet another impossible mission, made lewd comments about the umpteenth Charlie’s Angels, but agreed the producers could make the same movie over and over if those chicks cavorted across the screen.
Aidan relaxed and, truthfully, appreciated the camaraderie. But his mood got shot to hell when the feature started. “What’s this?”
Dylan’s expression was innocent as In the Line of Fire came on-screen. “I never saw this movie.”
“I did.”
“Yeah, but you won’t mind watching Renee Russo again, though,” Patrick added. “With all that red hair.”
Liam’s gaze zeroed in on him. “Problem, little brother?”
The gauntlet was thrown, Aidan knew it. None of them would cave at the challenge or they’d never live it down. Damned if he was going to be the wuss.
Sinking back into the cushions, he watched the opening salvos Eastwood threw to Russo in the most accurate Secret Service movie ever made. Watched her put him in his place. “I wonder if all female agents are so tough?” Dylan asked idly.
Aidan’s fist curled around the can of beer. He wasn’t taking the bait.
The scene where Eastwood and Russo shed their armaments to jump into bed was next. Vests hit the floor. Cuffs jangled. Guns and beepers thumped into the pile.
“Think those vests come off easy?” Liam asked.
Aidan watched stoically until Russo appeared in a black dress at some formal event. Superimposed over her, he could see C.J. in that dress, with her breasts straining out the top just fine.
“You’re drooling, kid Patrick’s tone was smug.
“Not over Russo.” This from Dylan.
Liam asked, “Ready to give in?”
Aidan lost the battle and bolted out of the chair. “Fuck you, I’m going to bed.” He stomped into the bedroom and crossed to the windows facing the back. There was a little yard where he used to play ball with Rory. Sometimes he missed Bailey and Rory so much it hurt. Sometimes he wished he had a son, who’d never leave him. And a wife.
“Aidan.” Patrick’s voice in the darkness.
Aidan grunted.
“We were just jabbing you.”
“I know. It’s okay.”
“We weren’t off base, were we?”
“You know you weren’t. I talked to Liam about it and Dylan guessed. They told you.”
His oldest brother crossed the room, stood behind him, and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Remember what else you said to me about Brie, besides talking myself into things?”
“Which time?”
Patrick chuckled. “Guess I shouldn’t feel bad about interfering. You asked me if I wanted to look back on my life and wonder if I could have made it work with her.”
“What do I know? I’m all talk.”
“You know a lot.”
He faced his brother. The moonlight cast Pat’s face in shadows. For his whole life, Pat had been there for him, especially when his father wasn’t. Now he looked tired—worn out. “It’s not going so well, is it?”
“We’re okay. There’s still a lot of friction over her job. But I got Isabella out of our reconciliation.”
“Your beautiful daughter.”
“We’re gonna make it.”
“Good.”
“Don’t you want all that, kid?”
“I do.” He swallowed hard and admitted, “She says she doesn’t.”
Pat waited a beat. “You want to look back on this when you’re old and wish you’d at least gone after her and tried?”
He just stared at his brother. Did he?
“You’re not gonna get a better chance. She’s off work. A half hour away. We got the address.”
“How’d you do that?”
“Dylan found out. He’s got connections. It wasn’t that hard.”
“I don’t know.” He turned back to the window. “I don’t wanna get slammed down again.”
“You can pick yourself up if it happens.” Another squeeze on the shoulder. “And we’ll be here if you need us.”
He turned to see his brother heading for the door.
“Patrick,” Aidan called out.
“Yeah?”
“Thanks.”
“You gonna do it?”
“I’m not sure. But thanks for caring. All of you.”
“Caring?” Pat said, the big-brother tone back. “Who said we cared? We just can’t stand seeing you be such a wimp. We taught you better than that.”
Aidan chuckled. And felt better.